I figured you were a decent man
When you gave up your seat on the bus
For that elf-like old woman
In a pea coat jacket.
The kind of man who takes public transit
Because he finds it humbling.
And in that moment, I found it bitter sweet
That someone as benevolent as you are
Will die,
And that no one will speak of this moment
At your funeral.
Then this meek elucidation
Poured into my body--
That all of us will die, sooner or later;
As the bus goes plummeting
Over the edge of the cliff
With tactful implement.
And my last thoughts were not of myself,
But of what I thought your wife would look like
When she found out about your death:
Her velvet eyes clustered with tears
That would spill and smear
The romantic words you wrote to her
In love letters from long ago.
You were such a grateful man,
And when I looked at you in that last blink,
You looked at peace.
Author notes
Probably one of my best pieces of work, clearly not a true story hahaha... but inspired by a time I was on a bus in Vancouver... hope you like it!
Have you had this experience?
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
A good read, this.
Probably, over time, you'll tickle it, tweek it, rough it up and smooth it out and in the end you might have a better poem, slightly better, but the essence of the thing is sound.
I'm going to enjoy reading your stuff, Katelyn.
-
I really like this. I don't have a lot of time just now but would love to come back and give it another good read I might have one or two small suggestions or ideas. I do think it needs a stronger title. The current one doesn't do it justice. I see you mention Vancouver. If you're Canadian, I have a contest running until next weekend for Canadian poets you might be interested in.
-
-
thanks
thank you so much. I should have, I've been in a lull lately. Not really producing anything special. its a horrid feeling.
-
-
Hey, I thought thus was wonderful, Katelyn. Your descriptions were drawing and your pacing and flow were right on. You really characterized this man not only by his actions, but by the speaker's perceptions, and the wife's reaction to his death. A marvelous way to tell the fuller story. Really well done!
-
I read this shortly after I had written the following poem (It must be season for bus metaphors
Too Much Information
the open doors of the 5th avenue bus embraced the passenger
with an indifferent sigh
but to him it seemed a welcoming
his face, a putty gray and massed with wrinkles,
the eyes were a point of entry
if you wished
__a warming of
__an explanation for
__a delight in
__an invitation to
__a place to begin
as he got closer his smile became a rowboat
with room enough for all
but people
spread their coats and bags where he could have sat
and dipped their heads when he paused to clear a space
at the very rear he took a seat and cast a glance outside
the ice was melting and there would be better footing.
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
